The Duties of Godparents
by Quietlymischievous
Summary: Molly and Sherlock take their duties as godparents very seriously.


John paused his pacing long enough to call through the closed bathroom door, "Rosie, love, please open the door." Rosie had come stomping in from school and had sequestered herself in the bathroom, refusing to come out. Not even the promise of take-away for dinner could entice the thirteen-year-old to open the door and tell her dad what was wrong.

"Go away!" Rosie wailed, punctuating the words with a sniff.

John stared over at Sherlock where he stood at the end of the hall, looking just as bewildered as John felt. "Sweetie, can you at least tell me what's wrong?"

"Go away, Dad! I told you I don't want to talk to anyone!"

The sound of his daughter sobbing on the other side of the door was breaking his heart. He clenched his fist and tried to keep his voice calm. "I want to help you, Rosie. Open the..." Before John was finished, he was interrupted by the doorbell.

Mrs Hudson's voice drifted up the stairs, "Oh hello, Molly. Come right in."

John could hear Molly say something to Mrs Hudson but was unable to make out what she said. It was immediately followed by Molly's light but quick tread up the steps.

Molly skidded to a halt just inside the kitchen door, a shopping bag clutched in each hand. Her windswept hair, inside out cardigan and lingering smell of formaldehyde led them to believe she had left the morgue in an awful hurry. "Oh, hello. Where's Rosie?" she demanded so abruptly that Sherlock could only point down the hall towards were John stood at the bathroom door. Nudging John out of the way she knocked at the loo door and called sweetly, "Rosie, it's Molly."

John and Sherlock stared, mouths agape as the lock clicked and the door swung inward just enough to admit Molly and her bags. John's eyes darted back and forth between Sherlock's face and the tightly closed door.

Sherlock gave John a bewildered look and shrugged his shoulders. He was completely flummoxed as to what had just happened. They could hear whispers, but could not make out any distinct words. He was just about to lean in and put his ear to the door when it suddenly opened and Molly stuck her head out long enough to clamor, "Bugger off you two. If you need the loo pop down to Speedy's or better yet run to Angelo's. While you're there, get something to eat. Pasta Carbonara and all the trimmings. Dessert too, something light, maybe a lemon torte. Give us girls a bit of privacy," before the door shut with a resounding thud.

The boys continued to stare in stunned silence. Since when had mousy Molly Hooper learned to bark orders like John's old Drill Sergeant? "Did she just..?" John pointed at the door, at a loss for words.

Sherlock turned and picked up his keys and mobile from the table. He cleared his throat, "Come John, I believe we have been dismissed."

John shook his head in protest, "Yeah, but.."

Sherlock cut him off, "Privacy, John. Privacy. I believe Molly will sort Rosie out. Besides, I really do need to pee."

Sometime later when John and Sherlock returned to the flat laden down with take-away bags smelling of both savory and sweet treats, they were surprised to find a very happy looking Rosie and Molly curled up on the sofa dipping pretzel sticks into jar of Nutella.

John stepped warily into the lounge, "Everything all right?"

Rosie smiled up at her dad, eyes still red but no longer showing evidence of recent tears, "We're fine. Molly was just telling me about how she tripped and fell off stage at her first dance recital."

Molly's cheeks reddened as she got up, handing the bag of pretzels to Rosie. "I'm quite sure they don't want to be bored by something so silly as dance recitals and ballet shoes. I'm going to help them set out dinner, I'll call you when it's ready." Molly motioned John and Sherlock into the kitchen and pulled the sliding doors closed behind them.

"Molly, what..?" John started but was interrupted by Molly grabbing both his wrist and Sherlock's, and dragging them down the hall into Sherlock's bedroom.

"Quiet, she can hear very well, you know." Molly crossed her arms over her chest and glared at John.

Sherlock pulled over the armchair he kept in his room for when he was in the mood to read and offered it to Molly. When she was seated, he took a seat on the edge of the bed and looked pointedly at John, who huffed and sat at the other end, looking expectantly at Molly. "Well?" John growled, failing to hide his impatience.

"Please do go on, Molly," Sherlock said in his most polite tone.

Molly adjusted her ponytail and began. "Rosie is upset."

John rolled his eyes, "Yes, I figured that out already, Molly. What I want to know is why?"

"John!" Sherlock's baritone rumbled a warning.

John swallowed, "Yeah, sorry Molly. It's just I don't like it when she won't tell me what's wrong."

Molly understood, she could not imagine raising a young daughter alone. John had done remarkably well and this was just a minor problem. She decided the direct approach was the best way to calm John's anxiety. "Rosie started her first menstrual cycle at school today. One of the other girls pointed out the blood on her skirt and made fun of her for not having a mother to teach her about such things. Rosie was devastated. One of her teachers gave her a sanitary towel and let her sit out class in the teacher's lounge. She called me on the way to Baker Street.'

John rubbed a hand down his face, "Christ, I thought I had another year or two before we had to have 'the talk'."

"John, as a medical man you should be aware that the average age of menarche for girls in the UK is..." Sherlock hesitated when he saw that John and Molly both were giving him an icy stare, "not really relevant now. Please continue, Molly."

"Well, it's a good thing she has me," Molly sat straighter in the chair. "I sat her down last August and we had 'the talk'. I didn't want this day to come as such a surprise as it would have had she not been prepared. Anyway, John, I didn't think you really wanted to tell her how to insert a tampon."

"Oh, God," John gasped and hid his face in his hands. "Tampons."

Molly nodded. "She wasn't sure whether she wanted to use tampons or towels. I bought her both and taught her proper use and disposal of each. They are in her rucksack along with a bottle of Paracetemol. Don't forget to take it with you when you go back to your flat this evening. I think I answered all of her questions, but she agreed to ask you if she thought of anything else once she got home."

John stood up and pulled Molly into a hug. "Thank you, Molly. I appreciate everything you have done for Rosie and me."

Molly hugged John back, "My pleasure. Besides, I figured it was my duty as Godparent. Right, Sherlock?"

Sherlock got up, buttoning his jacket as he rose. "Yes, exactly. Molly and I take our duties as Godparents very seriously. I wonder if I have any bananas."

John and Molly followed Sherlock into the kitchen where he began to rummage through the cabinets. "Sherlock there's a table full of food if you are hungry. If you have a craving for bananas you can get them later at Tesco's."

"Not a craving, John. How else am I going to teach my Goddaughter the correct application of a condom without one?"


End file.
